words

smell of mesquite and creosote
clings to my skin,
hums the secrets of my heart
and i close my eyes.

paints my lungs with dark tar
these immolate sirens,
whispering flames to the night
like voices in hell.

my words go soft as cotton
and these thoughts dim
to a slow vibration,
worry wrapped in fear.

oh, it’s everywhere,
my head is but the origin,
the  beginning,
the avenue of conception.

of light tentacles
the grappling of this
is choked in heavy heartbeats,
reaching out to eyes ringed like planets.

and i know, i know,
the fire breathes from within
like breath in winter,
goddammit i know, i know.

the smell of this burning earth
gently calls through the open window,
lips of tar spitting smoke
in the shape of my name.

smell of grinding teeth
and the scratching of chipped nails
cloud the room with medicinal memory
and i breathe it in
like a cancer patient
reduced to the bottom of human principle.

-S.C. Martinez